


Flashes of Morality

by Wheeljack



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Gen, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheeljack/pseuds/Wheeljack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was an Autobot - a broken medic - but above all else, he was an old fool who could not help but hope…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flashes of Morality

He’d known they were there long before they’d narrowed down his own position.

He’d known it would come to this eventually. He’d left the safety of the cave system he had been hiding in for some time, and he’d known the moment the humans had caught his signal. He’d fled, drawing them away from the one that should have been his true enemy. He fled the deep wilderness, leaving a hot trail that would be impossible to miss. There would always be some things that superseded even the ingrained habits brought by eons of war. The tiny little sparks in Starscream’s care were far more important to their future. From Kentucky, he had dragged the chase out until at last he wound up in the old forgotten shipyard he now sat.

How things had changed…

This planet and its dominant race was a tipping point none of them could have foresaw. Even Optimus, with all his wisdom, had been sucked into the whirlwind of confusion and betrayal. Things had been warped, twisted, and tipped upside-down, leaving them all hanging by a wire as they scrambled for a solid purchase. When had the Decepticon’s traitorous SIC become a more trustworthy ally than the very race they’d sought to protect from their tyranny?

As the combat team circled his position upon the derelict cruise ship, Ratchet vented quietly. He was tired. Tired of the fighting, tired of the _death_. His duties, his oaths, had long since been broken, servos stained with so much energon he could never hope to atone. He was a sham, an actor pretending to be a medic. If Ironhide were still alive…

Dimmed blue optics shuttered closed, servo clenching tightly.

The thought was crushed before it could fully form. The black mech would have never forgiven him for some of his choices after Chicago. Choosing to save Starscream’s life was but one of them. Would he have understood the reasoning? Would he have allowed it to happen? More than likely, Ironhide would have demanded they leave him there. Just rewards, he would have said.

Ratchet would never know for sure.

Oh, he could logic out the choice now, come up with any number of reasons for why. How many of their own race were even left? Hundreds? Thousands, if he was being generous. It wasn’t why he had chosen to snatch that particular spark back from Primus himself.

In the aftermath of Chicago, in the aftermath of Ironhide’s death, the medic had desperately wanted to save someone, anyone. In another time and place, perhaps finding Starscream’s crumpled remains would not have had such a profound affect on him. Perhaps in his grief he’d glitched, systems brought to a startling cracking point he could neither fight nor cure. Finding some small bit of life fighting to remain, Ratchet’s decision had been made instantly.

No more death.

A bitter declaration that held little meaning now.

The humans were close now. He wondered if they realized he could hear everything they were saying over supposedly secured lines. Their stolen technology gave them the edge, but in some things they still lacked the necessary knowledge to fully utilize it. Cruel irony that it was their weapons the humans understood the most. Their two races were too alike in this aspect. They had seen their own beginnings reflected in the young species, and yet they had hoped they would take a more peaceful route. Foolish of them to lecture such things when their own imminent extinction was brought about by endless war.

They too had believed they were only protecting their own.

The chatter over the lines erased any notion that perhaps they had come to their senses, that they were there to talk to him. There would be no peaceful ending to the coming confrontation. Even knowing this, he would not make the first move, nor would he fire the first shot. He was an Autobot - a broken medic - but above all else, he was an old fool who could not help but _hope_ …

Hope that died as the world bled into chaos.

It was all too surreal, like something out of a nightmare. Flashes of light, tank-wrenching pain, _fear_ … and then a spark deep anger as he roared at himself in his own mind. _Fight back, fight back, live!_ If he could get away, he could find another cave system to hide in. He’d brought them so far from Kentucky, and had yet to hear a single word of Starscream’s discovery. The hatchlings would be safe now. The humans could never envision their two factions coexisting, so they would never-

A lucky shot exploded against his back tires, ripping agony anew through his systems. Despite the screaming warnings, Ratchet forced himself to transform. If he could reason with them-

The barrage of fire did not cease.

Spun to the ground by a powerful blast, the medic had no where to go and no means to get there. Systems blared warnings in an ever rising tide until his HUD crashed and he was left with nothing but the pain. This wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. Not like this, not like this. They wouldn’t listen to reason. These humans, these soldiers, were out for revenge. Decepticon, Autobot, it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, did it?

The lull was momentary, the attempt to reason with the humans futile. They fired again, and Ratchet’s last flimsy wall of morals went down in flames. He would not die here, not like this. He would fight! He would _live_. Somehow. Somewhere in the firestorm his systems responded to the demands. Shots were fired back, but it was already too late.

Systems failing, his frame gave out.

His thoughts were hazy, frame almost beyond the pain ripping through his neural net. His vision was fritzing, one optic completely useless, but through the damage he recognized the figure striding toward him. “…Lockdown.”

How many of those shots had been Lockdown? He didn’t know, couldn’t know, and ultimately it did not matter. He could feel his spark flickering weakly, whole systems failing under the lack of proper energon and power. Fear licked at him, coiling into his weak spark, and he could not help but feel ashamed of himself. It was not fear of Lockdown, nor it was fear of the humans. For all of his knowledge, for all of his skills, he could never truly beat death.

It was his time, and he was…

“Autobots and Decepticons, acting like children, always fighting, making a mess out of the universe, then I’ve got to clean it up. There is one way you survive; tell me where he’s hiding. Where is Optimus Prime?”

Defiance roared to life within him. No. No, he refused. There would be no surviving for him. Sudden clarity cleared his thoughts as his spark burned brighter in fury. With one last burst of strength, Ratchet was able to turn his helm, to focus upward and lock gaze with the bounty hunter looking down on him. _You can’t have him_ , he snarled but the words never made it past his thoughts.

“ _Never._ ”

It was Ratchet’s time.

_No one else’s._

**Author's Note:**

> A little something I wrote on my Ratchet rp blog forever ago. Stumbled across it rereading old stuff. It got a pretty good response, so I figured I should put it somewhere a little more accessible. This still hurts to read, even now. ;^;


End file.
